Fragmented Pieces
by ThnksFrThFckngMmrs
Summary: He was a boy from the Seam, a victor of a bloody game and an owner of a broken heart. She was a girl with the bread, a victim of a ruthless Capital and an owner of a twisted mind. Somehow, they knew it would work out in the end. Even though in the beginning, they were the most unlikeliest of things. [Genderbent!Everlark] Drabbles
1. Bread

**A/N: Another fun distraction from boring and repetitive reality. Some characters may be gender flipped. Others stay the same. Might do daily or every other day updates to my liking. Will start before the first book and go on till after the Epilogue of the third. Now read and review. Please?**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p><em>The Bread<em>

He was just so, so hungry.

Palmers hadn't eaten for a day, but he hadn't eaten for longer. He couldn't give a damn about his mother. emLet her starve/em, as he thinks. But Palmer has a heart of gold that Kale wants so bad, and so he gives in and Palmer spoon feeds her. If we hadn't, we'll still have food, he bitterly mused.

So, he scavenges for food because he is so so hungry and Palm deserves more. He picks through the garbage of the bakery, because the lady always throws out some that are either too old, hard or burnt. And it's a God-sent present if even manages to find a whole loaf instead of meager crumbs.

But, today wasn't a good day for him. The lady had caught him. Her face turned so red like it would burst into flames. She started yelling, shrieking about Seam scum dirtying her bread and stealing like rats, so Kale had to run.

Poor, poor eleven year old Kale. It was raining to that day. So, now he was cold and hungry. He felt so defeated, so empty. His burning flame was flickering in the ashes. He had given up hope, because what did he really have to grasp on with? Palmer... But only his little, kind brother can go so far.

He's sorta delirious when he heard that wretched witch's screams and shrills again. He heard a sharp sound, like skin slapping skin, in the warm bakery. He heard more shrilly commotion, then he saw the baker's wife again, but she had this little girl with her this time.

She was average, from what Kale saw. She looked like the older lady, so he assumed that was her daughter, the baker's daughter. Her blonde hair definitely gave it away.

"Now throw these out to the pigs!" She reprimanded with a gasp of disgust. "Stupid girl, burning our profit!" She slammed the screen door behind her, and Kale thought he even heard a click of it locking. Kale was now definitely intrigued.

He silently and owlishly watched the small girl. His gaze never once leaving her. He saw the two loaves in her hands. They were half burnt, each. The bottom completely charred into a smokey black. No wonder the witch was crazy.

The girl slowly walked to the pig pen. She was about to toss it in, but then her head suddenly whipped around to stare at Kale. Both were silent, unmoving. She gave a quick look behind her.

_Thud!_

One loaf of charred bread only a foot away from his toes.

_Thud!_

Another. Kale looked up to see the girl standing still and eyeing him, as if she was daring him to not take it.

Consumed by his ravenous stomach and the thought of his baby brother to go another night without food, he snatched the loaves. He clumsily scurried to his feet, clutching the warm food to his chest. And when he stood, he gave a tiny, smallest of a nod and ran. His feet making slushed and gurgles in the pools of mud.

He never looked back, but had he, he would've seen the entranced and awed look on her face. Her eyes dreamy and warm and wanting.


	2. Staring

**I take requests. Just send me a one-word prompt and it'll be written and posted. Just post it in a review or PM me. Enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games **

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><p><em>Staring<em>

He doesn't know it, but she watches him.

When he ambles through town, in faded baggy clothes with an old hunting jacket.

When he trudges past the bakery window, always giving it a small smile which makes her smile warmly to.

When he trades two squirrels for two warm loaves and he manages to catch her stare.

She always blushes beet red, and she kinda hates herself for it. Because she shouldn't feel this way. She's too young. Too naive. Too innocent. Too plain. Too much of an average girl with a silly crush.

She's not "perfect" like her mother chides, scolds, insists her to be.

And she just wants the feeling to just leave one day, just as suddenly as it came.


	3. Little Green Monster

**Again, I take requests and prompts. Just post a review with the prompt n it or PM me. Enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games**

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><p><em>Little Green Monster<em>

He's jealous, so, so jealous of her.

He envies her, despises.

He wishes that his family, his little Palmer, could enjoy the luxury she's given.

Without the fear of the unknown. The fear of not knowing if there'll be food. If their mother will finally crack. If their shack will crumble. If he'll catch enough game to satisfy the consumers, to survive the day and maybe even the night.

But what he doesn't envies, is the blonde hair and blue eyes.

He's grown up in the scummiest of the scummiest places in all of District 13, Panem. And he's grown up with dark hair and olive skin. He's grown up hating Merchants.

But he can't hate little Palmer, sweet kind Palmer. If Kale could change thing about him, it'll be the blue, twinkling eyes and the curly blonde hair that reminds him so much of her.


	4. Freedom

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Enjoy :)**

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><p><em>Freedom<em>

Kale is a tricky but predictable person. At the age of twelve, he's head-strong, stubborn, passionate per se and completely a hard-head.

He zones in on thing, and that's Palmer. No one else matters. Nothing else matters. Only thing Kale sees is his little brother.

Then, he sees the fence. He sees it's unpowered, meaning no electrical shock. He sees it has a large gap in the fence right where his father said it'll be.

He sees the forest. A beauty of one. Untamed, mysterious, lush in such rich green colors that Kale paints it's picture to memory. It's color on a dull grey landscape.

He sees freedom. And he's tasted it, sipped it, devoured it. When he crossed through that barrier, he's trapped.

It's addicting. It's relieving. It's this whole new sensation that he just can't this grasp on. And he's needs more and more of it.

He wants to understand. He wants to have it firmly in his hands and to never let it go. He's already ten feet under, but it feels like ten feet off the ground.

He sees two things now in his tunnel vision, Palmer and Freedom.

(And unknowingly and unconsciously and in the future, a baker's daughter named Pippa.) 


	5. Pictures

****A/N: Wow, I love the reviews guys, especially from Awesome D.T! Thank-you so much! Keep them coming. I'm you all enjoyed these drabbles as much as I do. :) Don't forget to follow, favorite and review! I'm still accepting prompts so feel free to give me a one-worded one. Enjoy! :)****

****Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games****

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><p><em>Pictures<em>

Pippa lives, works, breathes at the bakery. It's all that she's ever known.

She decorates the cakes with a practiced and gentle hand. The dots are dolloped in perfect circles, the flowers layered just right with ease.

But, when the bakery's sign flips to "Closed" and the lights turn off, she's in a different world.

She goes to her room above the bakery, locks the door and slips into another dimension.

She pulls out a box hidden underneath a loose plank of wood under her bed. It's old, rusty, and color stained. She opens it, and gingerly, reverently, pulls out little Manson jars of paint and hair tip brushes.

She looks for anything, a sheet of crumbled paper, a used sheet, anything. Anything to use as a canvas.

Because you see, she just not the baker's daughter, she's a painter. And inspiring artist.

She paints pictures, memories, dreams. Anywhere, anyplace, anytime, just anything other then the hell hole she lives in.

The swelling and scarlet red hand print on her cheek still burns, so she paints.

Vigorous, rough strokes. Small, gentle daps. It's a sad melody when the brush touches the canvas, when hot tears slip off her redden cheek and unto her masterpiece.

It's a picture, a picture of him, though rough and faded and abstract, but she knows it him.

And as soon as it's finish, and she realizes it's him, anger and sadness and heartache comes rushing in.

It's a sad, beautiful picture. Both her and the painting, but mostly her broken and sowed up heart.


	6. Second Choice

**A/N: Enjoy my lovely readers! :D A little warning, implied sexual themes and coarse language.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games**

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><p><em>Second Choice<em>

She knew that she'll always be his second choice. Because honestly, no one can compare to Gael "Gallie" Hawthrone.

Pippa wishes she has her coal hair, long and curly and shiny and full. She wishes she has her deep brown eyes and long, seductive legs. She wishes she was her.

Because she knew that Kale will pick _her_, not little ole Pippa. Because she is his second choice, always.

She know this when their names are called, when Kale didn't look at her, but rather that beautiful girl.

She knew when they played their "games" at night to stop their nightmares of the damn games that he'll say her name, not Pippa's.

Because she's his second choice. And she wonders if she got it from her dear, dear mother.


	7. Gallie

**A/N: Introducing fem!Gale in this one. Personally, I think Gale is an undermined character. He's only seen as Katniss's best friend and lover. And I think there's more to him then that. So, I decided to explore "her" a little. I honestly had a great time writing this piece. A little long, but how is that really a negative? ;)**

**Just a heads up, I'm altering their characters just a bit. But it's nothing really bad, I promise.**

**And to Awesome D.T, you're drabble will be coming up shortly! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p><em>Gallie<em>

When he was twelve, he found his freedom: in the woods beyond the fence. All he had expected and wanted was to find game for his little bear so that he could eat, and to find a place to be free.

Because Kale wants freedom. It's the only thing the Capital can't take from him.

He didn't want to find a friend, but he did. And he was plenty annoyed with it, and she just wouldn't stop bugging him.

Sure, she's older a two years, but he didn't care at the time. He just wanted her to leave him _alone_. She just couldn't take the hint.

"That's a horrible snar. I wouldn't be surprised if your game freed itself."

"Go away. You're scaring off all the meat."

"They're already gone when they heard your'e feet walking miles away."

"What do you want? Just tell me and go already."

Silence, and Kale was glad that it was.

"What's your name kid?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Cause, I can't exactly keep calling you, 'Hey you!' or 'Kid!' now can I?"

Kale pondered this for a moment, balancing the pros and cons- and it was weighing heavily in favor of the cons.

"Kale." The beautiful girl snorted.

"Like the vegetable? That's unfortunate." Kale rolled his eyes. "So, Kale, shall I teach you the art of making a snare and in all, how to hunt?"

"Sure. Why not. You'll be an ass and won't leave me alone."

"I like you already Kale. We're going to be great friends, you and I."

And they were. But Kale saw her as something much, much more while she only saw him as a little brother.

And Pippa saw this. She saw a clearly smitten Kale follow a fierce and beautiful Gallie everywhere they went. It just shredded her heart to bits.


	8. Strawberries

**A/N: I'm introducing a male!Madge in this one. I honestly thought she deserved more recognition, so "he" will be playing a large part in this drabble series. I hope you'll enjoy it!**

** Awesome D.T: You're requested prompt will be posted between late tonight or late evening tomorrow at the latest. I'm sorry about the delay!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

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><p><em>Strawberries<em>

We wasn't sure how it started, but all he knew was that every Sunday morning, he'll get up and meet with Gallie in their spot, they'll check their traps and hunt, they'll go to a meadow not too far a river, and pick its nearby bushes flush with berries. They would then set aside the plumpest ones and place in a separate sack, and head out, their first stop to be the Mayor's kitchen back door.

They would then exchange the berries with the Mayor's kind son. And Gallie hated every second of it. And she made sure for Mateo and Kale to get the hint every single time.

And it certainly didn't change on Reaping Day, which so happened to occur on a Sunday that year when Kale was sixteen, Gallie and Mateo eighteen, their last year.

Kale walked up the back porch steps and knocked three times on the screen door. Through the tightly woven screen, they saw a mop of disheveled blonde hair.

The door swung open, and a handsome young man sarcastically sang to them, "Morning! Happy Hunger Games." Gallie's jaw clenched tightly shut and her hand made a fist.

"Mornin, Mateo. Here's a sack of strawberries, just liked you asked for." Kale politely said- because if he hadn't Gallie was sure to tell Palmers and Palmers would be mad and he just couldn't have that. The mayor's son beamed.

"Thanks Kale" He stuck his hand in his jeans that were without the slightest scratch and fished through his pocket. He dropped four shiny coins in Kale's open palm. "Here ya go. Please doing business with ya!"

"That's four. That's double then what we ask for." She shoved Kale's hand back into Mateo's, her face contorted with pure anger and rage. "We. Don't. Want. Pity." Mateo just smirked happily, dropping the coins back into Gallie's hand.

"Just think of it as a Reaping Day present. Oh, and 'may the odds be ever in your favor!'." The screen door closed with a click. And Gallie just lost it, kicking the neatly lined up trash cans with great fury, much like a toddler throwing his toys during his temper tantrum.

Kale just laughed and smiled endearingly at his best friend.


	9. Reaping

**A/N: This is for Awesome D.T. I'm so sorry it's kinda late, but I'm trying to stay in chronological order so that way no one will become confused or lost. That and I kinda forgot I had to post again because I promised you a chapter... Sorry about that week long wait... I still hope that you'll enjoy it! :D Though I will admit, it's very angsty and depressed...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games**

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><p><em>Reaping<em>

Before, he left the Mayor's house after the exchange, he knew what day it was.

Before he met his best friend in the woods per norm, he knew what day it was.

Before he reverently pulled on his dead father's hunting jacket and hummed his father's song, he knew what day it was.

Before he woke Palmers with a warm and loving smile and his mother with cold, stern eyes, he knew what day it was.

Even before his eyes fluttered open and he saw the morning's first light, shining through the cracked window, he _knew_ what day it was.

Because who wouldn't be daunted and scarred of Reaping Day?

Because who wouldn't remember the day where he could be drawn into the bloody massacre that's dolled up for entertainment? Because who couldn't forget that his little brother, his sweet, kind, gentle Palmers, could be an innocent of that "game"?

No, it's a day imprinted in his mind, like a tattoo. And it won't _ever_ come out.

;;;

Pippa could be considered as an easily scared child. Her older brothers, Taftan and Rye, though protective and good-willed, would often at times scare her about the horrors of the game. They kept egging her on, bluffing about how they choose the name on that damned piece of paper (Because everyone knew the odds are _never_ in their favor and it's rigged.) And how only the naughtiest, worst children were picked. And Pippa knew that deep down inside, like her mothers always says, that she's one of those children.

That only, _only_, her name is on the white little piece of paper, and she's destined to die in those wretched games.

And the worse thing about it, she's come to accept that. She's no longer scarred out of her wits mind about it. Because she knew it was a fact, and she can't argue with the truth, however cursed and damned it may be.

And not only that, but she knew he mother would be glad, jovial at least! And her father, her broken-hearted, but kind father, would give her nothing but a look of pity and sympathy, like he knew she was doomed nobody the odds stacked for her.

So, when she woke up that money, she treated it liked any other morning. Though, deep down inside, she knew she was petrified. But there's nothing she could do about it.

She had long cried those waterfall of tears many years before. Her eyes have been vacant and depthless for many, long years.


	10. Fear

**A/N: Okay... So about the daily updates... I can't do that. I'm back in school and it's a killer with all the essays and exams. That and I have these competitions to worry about so I don't really have time unless it's at one am or on the weekend. So, I'm updating on the weekends and- once in a blue moon- the holidays where I'm off of school. :) But even then it'll probably be one update for an entire weekend. I still take requests so, just post a one word, or two word, prompt, and I'll do the best I can do. :D**

**I'm going to admit, writing the Reaping Day was very challenging for me as a writer. I couldn't just write it in one-shot (ignore the pun). It's too emotional and angsty. So, bear with me with the incoming drabbles that are solely focused on the Reaping Day.**

**This is for ObeliskX...**

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><p><em>Fear<em>

Kale honestly didn't know what he should be feeling right now. Should he nervous and anxious that his little brother's name was in that damn jar? Should he be anger at the Capitol, because they are the ones orchestrating this whole blood bath, aren't they? Or should he be guilty, because, in a way, he failed to protect his little brother. The only thing his father had requested of him, before he went into the mine shaft, like he _knew_ he wouldn't be home for dinner, was that he protect Palmer, no matter the cost.

Even at age eleven, Kale knew just what the cost would be. And he take comfort in that, knowing he could provide the ultimate sacrifice to shield his baby brother from the evil in this cruel, twisted world.

But, Kale isn't comfortable. He isn't in control. For the past four years, on this very day, he _wasn't_ in control.

So that leaves one option left, and Kale knew it fit the bill.

Fear. Kale was not only afraid for his little brother's life, but his own. Because if he's gone, who would take care of him?

Not their mother. No, she's too far broken to be repaired and relied upon. Galli? No, never in a million years. She already has to take care of her mother and three younger siblings.

So, yes, Kale was in fear of today, and the after that, and after that, and in the arena and after that and even after that. And he has a reason to be.

;;;

And that fear was still in him, growing and running rampant in his bundle of frayed nerves when his younger brother's name was called by that Capitol lady's lips.

Still growing and brewing at the surface, when his voice rose and he volunteered, voice shaky but clear and firm.

Even when it threatening to bubble over and for him to implode and then explode, when she walked up those daunting steps.

And, yes, even when the girl with the bread's name was called as well.

Fear was the best description to reacquaint with. Because, it woudn't just go away after that. It's in far too deep.


End file.
